Love, Sacrifice, Necessity
by Harry Lvr
Summary: [oneshot] Ever wonder why Snow White's stepmother want to kill her in the first place? Or why the king never made an appearance in the story? Here, the stepmother tells her own tale, a tale of the power of love, sacrifice, and chilling necessity.


**Disclaimer: **Not sure if you have to do this for fairy tales (I mean, does _anyone_ actually own them?) but I don't own it. No, wait, it's the Grimm brothers! They wrote Snow White, didn't they? Well, anyway, it's not mine :)

**A/N**: Ok, I'm going to be completely honest with you. I hate this fic. Hell, I even hate the fairy tale! The only reason I'm posting this is...well, let's call it writer's frustration.I'm in my senior year of school andwhoever told me it's easy deserves a slow, painful death by disembowlement, cause it's really not. I honestly haven't had a single chance to write anything! Before you point out that this is a fic, I have an excuse - this was English homework. A practice thing for the actual exam or something...meh, I dunno. Anyway, point is, I would actually be writing some decent stuff, I've got the muse (the other day, I got this huge load of inspiration and energy...it just happened to be in the middle of double maths rolls eyes Lucky me, eh?) but I am seriously low on time. So no more fics for a while, folks :(

Anyway, enough with the depressing stuff, on with the show!

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Love, Sacrifice, Necessity

Morganna stood in front of the Mirror as she had done a million times before. She could still remember the day that she had bought it, the day after her marriage to the king. The day she had realised that he did not love her.

When she had married him, it had not been for the money or the position, despite what everyone else had thought of her. Childish admiration had matured to affection for the king, and as she came to know him better, affection flourished into love. While he courted her, and when they were wed, it did not occur to her that he did not share her passion. When reality hit her, it had hit her hard.

The first time he called the name, she had not heard it. The second time, she had wilfully ignored it. The third time, it was all she could do not to burst into tears. Danielle. She was his first wife, and everyone knew of his devotion to her. When she died, he had been devastated, and rightly so. But two years had passed, and Morganna had watched him move on from her death and begin to live again. She wondered how much of that had been her mind playing tricks on her. For as she lay there in his arms, she realised that he never had moved on, never had stopped loving her. Never had started loving Morganna.

That day, ten years ago, Morganna had vowed to herself that she would _make_ him fall for her. After all, he evidently cared for her, she was renowned far and wide for her beauty, and she was in love with him. Now, she stood in front of the Mirror and wondered where she went wrong. Her beauty had not faded – if anything, it had ripened with maturity – and yet her plan had failed. Anger churned in her stomach as she cursed Danielle and her brat of a daughter. They had stolen her entire life away from her, destroyed the spirit of the man she loved.

Taking a deep breath, Morganna tried to settle her nerves. After all, it wasn't intentional in Snow White's case. She couldn't help looking exactly like her mother, couldn't help being a constant reminder of her to the king, couldn't help pushing him further down the path of insanity. Morganna's attempt at calm shattered at that thought and she shuddered fitfully. Insanity. His mind was deteriorating rapidly, his grief for his first wife enhancing it. When he saw Snow White he had mistaken her for Danielle. He no longer noticed Morganna at all. 'Most of the time, anyway', she thought ironically, fingering the purple bruise on her cheek. What right did Snow White have to tell the king that Morganna had tried to stop her from visiting him? What right did _he_ have to be angry with her? Of course she had to keep Snow White away from the king: she was the main reason behind his insanity! Not to mention that the sight would undoubtedly be distressing for the child.

Drawing her mind away from the memory, Morganna opened her mouth to ask the familiar question. When she had first begun asking it, she would come here eagerly, and glow with pride at the answer. As the years dragged on and the king showed no sign of interest, the task became habit, her reaction non-existent. Now, she wondered why she bothered. But habit prompted her to ask the question, and she listened absent-mindedly for the answer.

"Snow White is fairer than thee."

It took a moment for the answer to penetrate her mind, another for her to register it and another again for her to break through her shock and ponder the meaning of it. Snow White was prettier than her. Snow White looked exactly like Danielle. Snow White was destroying the king. Snow White had to go. It was so simple and logical, yet it weighed upon her mind. She didn't want to become a murderer, but if it was the only chance of saving the man she loved…

'It was necessary.' She was trembling slightly as she gave the huntsman his instructions, and she could not stop her breathing from becoming erratic as she re-entered her rooms, but she repeated the phrase in her mind until she almost believed it. It was for her husband, for the king. For the kingdom, even, as it would flourish again if he regained his sanity. _When_ he regained his sanity. With Snow White gone, there was nothing stopping him.

The next day, Morganna focussed all her willpower on keeping her countenance as she tracked the familiar path to the Mirror Room. Yet, for all her care, she could not stop the beads of sweat appearing on her forehead, nor the slight irregularity in the rhythm of her steps. When she asked the question, her heart was pounding so loudly that she was sure she would not be able to hear the answer. Despite her fears, the answer was clear.

"Snow White is fairer than thee."

"Where is she?" She surprised herself by the smoothness of her voice, untouched by the turmoil of her emotions. Already, her mind was working ahead. The huntsman had not done his duty and Snow White was still alive. Was she the _only_ person to care for the king? Apparently so. The huntsman would have to die for his dereliction of duty, that much was obvious. As for Snow White, she would be destroyed.

When she found the house, Morganna walked forward with very little hesitation. After all, she had killed once already now. It was easier than it seemed, if rather distasteful. Perhaps she would take some pleasure in killing Snow White: after all, the brat was willing to sacrifice her own father's mind for a bit of pleasure. She did not deserve to live, for that selfishness alone.

"Would you like an apple, my dear?" How easy it was to trick her. But Snow White had never been acclaimed for her intelligence. Morganna felt no remorse as she watched the girl fall to the floor. She could never have survived in the real world anyway, with that kind of naivety. Morganna quietly adjusted the cloth over her basket before stepping over the prone body and out of the door. It was done. Finally, she would have a chance at a real life. At the very least, she would be able to pull the king out of his insanity, at best, she might even be able to make him care for her again. She stilled longed for more, but she would settle for that. It would be enough.

As she stood on the grass, smelling the tang of salt in the air and enjoying the wind tugging at her hair, the sound of shouting drifted up to her. Eyes snapping open, she looked around for the disturbance. Twelve men, dwarves, were running up the mountain towards her, faces red with anger and grief. She started, eyes widening in fear as she realised they were coming for her. Gathering her skirts, she began to run in the opposite direction as fast as she could. Her soft shoes, made for palace floors and garden paths, did not soften the hard rock beneath her feet and her fingers began to tear and bleed as she clutched at rocks, clambering awkwardly up the mountain.

She did not look up as she scrabbled for footing, glancing back at the mob of men coming for her. They were closer now, and she began to panic, muscles straining as she climbed higher. It was only when she heard the first clap of thunder that she realised that it was storming. Her fine dress was soaked through, her feet slipping and sliding on the rock. It was only when she saw the water below her that she realised she was falling. It was churning, frothing in the storm, smashing against the cliff with a fury only ever seen in nature. It was only when she felt the small twinges of regret that she wondered why she was screaming. Her life was hardly worth living, after all, so why did she fear death? It was only when felt the water break her bones and fill her lungs that she realised that she still loved the king; that this was the love that he had felt for Danielle. It was a love that could not be shattered by anything, even death, and she finally understood why he had never moved on. It was only as her mind began to shut out the pain and the world that she realised that there could never have been any recovery for him. Just as he could not love anyone else, he could never return to sanity. It was only as she let go of her life completely that she realised that the same was true for her.

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**AN:** Guys, please review. If you've made it this far then I'd really appreciate feedback - good, bad, whatever. And if you've never read anything by me before, please don't judge me by this - it's nowhere near my usual standard. Still, constructive critism is a writer's best friend, and very much appreciated :) 


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